


Exhales.

by imsorryimlate



Category: Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsorryimlate/pseuds/imsorryimlate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Matt is a writer who always go to the same café. The barista is terribly annoying, but Matt blames the coffee for being too good to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhales.

Matt walked through the doors of his favourite café. He went here every day to write; mostly because of the great coffee and the cosy atmosphere. Never because of the irritating barista who never shuts up; if he wasn’t chatting with customers or friends that stopped by, he was on the phone constantly. Matt had considered finding a new café to go to when he was going to write, but he blamed the coffee of being too good to leave behind. Besides, he had never gotten any writing done in another café; it was this place that brought him inspiration. It was a medium-sized retro café with old furniture and porcelain cups in pastel colours.

Matt was a writer and his most recent book had been a best-seller. He was currently working on a new one and he really wanted it to be just as good as his first, so if he had to endure the constant buzzing of the barista’s voice while he was working, he would. It was worth it just to be able to sit down and write here; the armchair that was unofficially reserved for him was the single most comfortable thing in the world, and it was placed in a corner so no one bothered him. The temperature of the room was just right and, as previously mentioned, the coffee tasted like it had been delivered directly from heaven.

 

"Good morning," Matt said to the floppy-haired barista behind the counter. He was looking a bit sleepy, but smiled at Matt as always.

 

"Hiya!" Oh God, his voice was so loud, “the usual?"

 

"Yes, please," Matt said and waited patiently as the barista fucked up his order two times before giving him a perfect cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Matt mumbled, paid and walked off to ‘his’ armchair. He placed the coffee on the table before retrieving his laptop from his rucksack.

He wrote for hours with the barista’s voice as a background noise. After a while, the barista came up to him and took his cup before returning with it a minute later; this time filled to the brink with coffee. Well, that’s new.

 

"I figured you could use some more; you’ve been working for hours," He explained when Matt gave him a questioning look.

 

"How much?" Matt asked and took his wallet out of his pocket.

 

"Don’t worry about it; it’s on the house," The barista smiled widely; there was a small gap between his front teeth. Matt had never noticed that before.

 

"Are you sure?" Matt asked tentatively.

 

"Yes, I’m sure," The barista confirmed, “you’ve been coming here for the past six months; I think you count as a regular by now,"

 

"Okay, thanks," Matt smiled towards the barista, who smiled back before retreating to the counter to take more orders. It didn’t take long before his chatter began again and Matt managed to write a whole chapter that day.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

Matt slammed the door behind him, more vigorously than he had intended. His flatmate, Ian, came out of the kitchen, munching on an apple, to see what was up.

 

"How did it go today?" He asked Matt and leaned against the kitchen doorframe.

 

"Good, actually," Matt said while taking off his thin jacket and hanging it on a hook, “the annoying barista I told you about gave me a free refill of coffee,"

 

"Why?" Ian’s eyebrows were furrowed in question.

 

"He said it looked like I needed it," Matt shrugged and made his way to the kitchen.

 

"Maybe he’s interested?" Ian suggested with an even more suggestive smirk.

 

"It doesn’t matter; I wouldn’t be interested either way," Matt said dismissively and opened the fridge to find some kind of food to cook. “I wouldn’t be able to stand someone who’s  _that_ annoying,"

 

Ian laughed softly and Matt started to cook carrot soup for them both.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

"Good morning!" Did this guy always smile like he had swallowed the sun? “The usual?"

 

"No, I think I will go with some chai tea today, actually," Matt said and the barista’s eyes widened comically.

 

"Alright… What happened?" He asked while preparing Matt’s tea.

 

"What do you mean?" Matt asked back.

 

"Something must’ve happened to make you suddenly change your order, since you’ve been ordering the same thing for six months," The barista’s hands worked skilfully and fast among the machines.

 

"I, eh… I don’t know," Matt answered truthfully while continuing to dig in his mind to find a reason to the sudden change.

 

"Did you fall in love?" The barista asked with a teasing grin.

 

"No," Matt said shortly and paid for his tea, then he went to his usual armchair to sit down and write. He had probably been a bit rude to the barista, but he was still annoying; not only did he talk all the time, but now he had started to try to peek inside of Matt’s personal life. Maybe this barista needed a hobby or something.

Matt wrote and wrote and wrote, and the barista talked and talked and talked. A routine that had been existing for the last six months and that Matt questioned every day. Was it really worth it? Was it really worth listening to the barista’s conversations? Every day he found the same answer; yes, because the beverages are too damn good.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

"What are you writing?" The barista asked and Matt looked up from his computer screen; slightly startled.

 

The barista was sitting across from him, on a chair that had been turned hind-foremost. He sat with the backboard between his long legs and watched Matt with big, curious eyes.

 

"A book," Matt answered and continued to type on his computer, but the barista’s intense gaze was disturbing him.

 

"What kind of book?" The barista’s voice was cutting through Matt’s ‘thinking-bubble’ and made him lose concentration.

 

"It’s just some drama and romance, " Matt explained patiently and waited for the barista to just leave him alone.

 

"Tell me the basic plot then," The barista pressed and Matt sighed.

 

"Um, we get to follow a young man who’s a secret agent, and he’s on a mission to find out information about a mafia boss and in order to do that he starts to date the mafia boss’ youngest son. And eventually he falls in love, which have a lot of consequences," Matt always felt a bit embarrassed when he told people about his book, and he didn’t know why, “I know it sounds a bit boring-"

 

"No, it sounds interesting," The barista smiled again and opened his mouth to say something more, but the bell above the door rang and signalled a new customer was on its way in, so he had to leave.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

"The annoying barista sat down and talked with me today," Matt said casually as he and Ian was sharing a meal together.

 

"Really?" Ian asked through a mouthful of food; accidentally spitting broccoli everywhere.

 

"Yes," Matt said and removed a piece of broccoli from his hand, “he asked about my writing,"

 

"Okay, he’s clearly interested!" Ian announced.

 

"I think he was just bored and had nothing to do but bother me," Matt told Ian and rolled his eyes.

 

"What, don’t say you think he was annoying for asking about your book?" Ian looked at him with disbelief painted across his face.

 

"He’s always annoying," Matt took another bite of his food and decided that the conversation about the barista was over. When he spoke again, he brought up Ian’s job as topic.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

The spring had left to make room for the blossoming summer. Well, as blossoming as the English summer was with the sun peeking out from behind rain clouds from time to time.

 

Matt walked to the café as usual, expecting to see the annoying barista. Instead he found a small, blonde girl behind the counter. At first he thought that the annoying barista only was on vacation or something, but it didn’t take many days before he realised that the annoying barista must have quit, or gotten fired.

When Matt realised this, he sighed contently; he was finally free from the consistent talking and now he could write better than ever!

 

Or, so he thought at the moment. But with the annoying barista gone, he started to notice every sound around him; the distant wail of an ambulance, the low purr of the coffee machine, the ticking of a clock that Matt hadn’t even known existed in the café! The new barista was awfully quiet, except for her squeaking trainers. The café seemed too large and empty without the annoying barista, and the retro, cosy atmosphere had turned stale.

 

It didn’t take many days for Matt to stop returning to the café and instead suffer from writer’s block at home.

Ian noticed, of course.

 

"What are you doing?" He asked Matt, who was sitting in front of the telly in his boxer briefs and a big, worn t-shirt - at 3 in the afternoon.

 

"Watching The Bill, why?" Matt answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

 

"No, I meant; why have you been hanging around our flat all day lately, and not touched your computer?" Ian walked around the couch and blocked the television with crossed arms.

 

"Because I have writer’s block," Matt said and ran his hand through his hair; messing up his bed hair further.

 

"Why don’t you go to the café and try to get some inspiration there?" Ian threw himself down beside Matt on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

 

"Because it doesn’t inspire me anymore," Matt muttered.

 

"Your deadline is next month, you know," Ian reminded him and irritation flared inside of him; he didn’t need Ian to stress him even more.

 

"I know, and I have tried everything to get this writer’s block to go away! I tried to write at the café, I tried to write at a different café and I tried to write in the library and at home. I tried listening to different kinds of music and I tried to force myself to write, but  _nothing_  is helping," Matt rambled on for a good minute and he was almost out of breath when he ended his rant with a heavy sigh.

Ian was silent for a long time and the only sounds came from the television and the London-traffic outside. Matt had started to believe that Ian would remain quiet until he spoke up again.

 

"Didn’t you say that the annoying barista had stopped working at the café?" He asked.

 

"Yes, but that isn’t relevant," Matt wondered which direction Ian’s thoughts were going in.

 

"Maybe it is; what if you can’t concentrate because the annoying barista isn’t talking in the background?" Ian’s suggestion made Matt’s cheeks turn a bit rosy; what an outrageous accusation!

 

"No, that’s impossible," Matt said; to himself or Ian, he wasn’t sure.

 

But each day the deadline crept closer, and Matt became more desperate. So he soon accepted Ian’s theory as a possible truth.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

The bell over the door dinged as Matt walked into the familiar café. Behind the counter stood the blonde girl who had took over the annoying barista’s job. Matt walked up to her and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

 

"Yes?" She asked and even though Matt had rehearsed a thousand times the exact words he was going to speak, they were all forgotten now.

 

"Eh… Yeah, hi, I was just, eh, wondering if you knew the name of the annoy- eh, I mean, the barista who worked here before you?" He stumbled over the words awkwardly and the blonde barista looked at him as if he had lost the plot.

 

"No, I don’t, sorry," The blonde barista said and Matt’s heart sank in his chest.

 

"Okay, thanks anyway," He said and walked towards the door with slouching shoulders.

 

"Wait!" The blonde barista called out suddenly. Matt turned around. “I could call the manager and ask her, if you want,"

 

"Yes, that would be great!"

 

Matt waited as the blonde barista talked over her phone. It didn’t seem to go well, until she handed the phone to Matt.

 

"Hello?" He asked tentatively.

 

"Yes, hi. Listen; I have a lot of employees, so I can’t remember every one of them. Got a name? A description?" The lady’s voice on the other side of the line was screechy and almost hurt in Matt’s ears.

 

"Um… his hair was floppy. He had a, eh, quiff. Tall, kind of handsome," the second Matt said the word _handsome_ , his face began to burn red.

 

"Handsome and a quiff… you have to be talking about Nick," The lady concluded and Matt’s heart skipped a beat. He was so close to escape this horrible writer’s block.

 

"Nick?" Matt asked to make her elaborate, an address or at least a last name would be worth gold.

 

"Yes, Nicholas Grimshaw. I don’t have his address, I’m afraid. But he lives in London, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find him in the yellow pages," The lady explained.

 

When Matt had thanked the manager and the blonde barista over and over again, he went home to search on the Internet for a Nicholas Grimshaw. It was easy, but when the address stared back at him from the computer screen, he had second thoughts; should he really contact the annoying barista? Would that really cure his writer’s block? But then the angry, red letters in his calendar reminded him of his deadline, and Matt decided that it was worth a shot despite the humiliation that might come with it.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

Matt stood in front of Nick’s door. His heart was beating fast and his hands were a bit clammy. He had been standing here for the last fifteen minutes; preparing to knock on the door.

What would Nick think of this? Would he even be able to help Matt at all?

Eventually Matt took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door. How many times was he supped to knock? Three rapt knocks, right? He accidentally knocked five times instead; all five of them irregular in strength and time apart. He almost fainted when he heard footsteps coming closer; he couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous.

The door opened to reveal Nick; dressed in white Ralph Lauren boxer briefs and a loose, grey t-shirt. His attire made Matt feel even more awkward than he was to begin with, but Nick didn’t seemed bothered at all.

 

"Oh, writer-guy!" He said with a large grin and leaned on the door.

 

"Eh, hi," Matt mumbled. He didn’t know where to assert his gaze; it was difficult to look at Nick because his bare legs drew Matt’s attention, but it would feel disrespectful to not look at him at all.

 

"What are you doing here?" Nick asked; he looked rated delighted about Matt’s presence.

 

"I need to ask you a favour," Matt admitted.

 

"Alright… do you want to come in?" Nick straightened up and stepped aside to let Matt in.

 

"Thank you," Matt said as he walked into Nick’s home. It smelt good in there, but the good smell was a bit ruined by the heavy scent of dog.

Right then, a small Jack Russell came running with its tongue hanging out of its mouth. It stopped in front of Matt and sniffed him a little before standing on its hind legs, supporting itself on Matt’s shin. He bent down and patted the dog’s head lightly; it was the polite thing to do when someone’s dog was practically climbing on your leg, right?

 

"Cute dog," Matt said, “what’s its name?" It was polite to ask for the name as well, right?

 

"Puppy," Nick said and the dog immediately turned its head towards him.

 

"Puppy?" Matt asked with raised eyebrows.

 

"Yes. Everyone always think that I say ‘Poppy’ and I have to tell them ‘no, Puppy, like a baby dog’," Both of them chuckled at that.

 

After Puppy had left them alone, Nick showed Matt to the living room where he could sit down on the couch while Nick went to locate a pair of trousers. It felt weirder and more awkward to see Nick walking into the room and zipping up his fly in front of Matt than it did when he was just wearing boxer briefs, and Matt didn’t know why. He just knew that he sat on the couch; tense as a steel spring and with a heated face.

 

"So, what’s this favour you are speaking of?" Nick asked and sat down beside Matt on the couch; did he really have to sit  _that_  close?

 

"Eh, well, you see, I write a book and… how do I say this? I got so used to your voice when you were working at the café that I can’t write without it, I think," Matt covered his face with his hands; trying to not blush like a school girl with a crush. He had never really been the blushing-kind, but this situation was just purely awkward.

 

"You mean you can’t write when you can’t hear me talking?" Nick asked and looked like he was on the verge of breaking out into a laughing fit.

 

"I suspect so, yes," Matt said in a lamentable voice and lowered his hands from his face.

 

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Nick said and licked his lips. Oh God, he was too close for such actions.

 

"I would be very grateful if you could talk while I write, maybe?" Matt suggested.

 

"Just talk? When no one is listening?” Nick looked a bit doubtful.

 

“Yes… I know it’s a strange thing to ask, especially since we don’t know each other, but I have a deadline coming up very soon and I am  _desperate_  for your help,” Matt’s voice was pleading.

 

“What’s in it for me?” Nick asked with a smile; Matt wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

 

“Whatever you want,” Matt answered eagerly without any hesitation. Nick smirked and let his eyes travel over Matt’s body. Matt swallowed mutely; what on earth would Nick want in exchange? Not sex, right? Matt didn’t know what scared him the most; the thought of Nick demanding sex in exchange for his favour or the fact that Matt considered to do it.

But when Nick looked at Matt’s terrified face he could stop the laughter from lashing out of him.

 

“Sorry,” Nick said after a good minute of laughing, “but you should have seen your face… Don’t worry; I’m just playing with you,” Matt sighed in relief and couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he had been to think that Nick would ask something like of him… though, he was sitting in a complete stranger’s house, so it wasn’t his fault that he was a bit paranoid.

 

“So you’ll do it?” Matt asked with a hopeful smile.

 

“Of course I will,” Nick grinned, “But you have to credit me,”

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

And so, they started. They had decided that Nick would come home to Matt and basically do whatever he liked as long as he was talking. The first time, Matt was a bit nervous about how it would play out and if it would work. What if it didn’t work? What would he tell Nick then? But Ian assured Matt that it would go fine before he left for work.

At exactly 12:09 the doorbell rang and Matt scooted up from his armchair to let Nick in. He was dressed more presentably now; skinny jeans and a plaid button down shirt.

“Hi,” Nick said as soon as he had opened the door.

“Hi,” Matt answered, “please, come in,”

Matt lead Nick to the living room; Matt sat down in the armchair in front of the little coffee table that he had been occupying earlier while Nick stretched out on the couch. Wow, he’s really tall. Nick started to talk about some fashion show he had seen on TV and Matt immediately filtered him out. His fingertips danced on the keys as soon as the familiar blur of Nick’s voice was accompanying him.

Nick got bored after a while and called a friend whom he talked with for almost an hour before he got up and inspected Matt’s flat. He commentated on everything from books to painting on the walls. But it was obvious that he’s bored; Matt felt a bit guilty about making him come there and be bored. On the other hand; he hadn’t written this well since he had last heard Nick talk.

 

“Who else lives here?” Nick asked after a while.

 

“Hm?” Matt’s attention slowly turned from the computer screen to Nick, “how do you know that someone else lives here?”

 

“There is a lot of stuff here for one person and the shoes by the door are in different sizes,” Nick shrugged like it had been obvious, which it might’ve been. Most people weren’t that attentive though.

 

“Hello Sherlock,” Matt said and Nick snorted softly.

 

“So who lives here?” He asked again. Why was he so curious?

 

“Just my friend Ian. He’s at work right now,” Matt didn’t fail to notice the small smile that was tugging on the corner of Nick’s mouth. Why was he smiling?

 

“Are you hungry?” Nick asked and it was quite obvious that he just asked to change the subject, but Matt let it slide.

 

“Um, a bit. I could make us something if you’d like?” Matt saved his Word-document and stood up.

 

“I could make us something, maybe? I mean, so that I have something to do. I could describe what I am doing so that you hear me talk,” Nick suggested.

And that is how they fell into a routine; Nick came to Matt’s flat and talked and then he cooked dinner for them. Fortunately he was a good cook. Sometimes Ian was home and they could talk with each other, which was good since Nick didn’t get bored.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

But so, one day, things weren’t the way they should. Matt was writing the last two chapters of his book, but it wasn’t going well. He couldn’t focus, even if Nick was there and speaking with Ian.

Nick was telling Ian about how Puppy had ran off in the park and scared the ducks in the pond. And then about how Puppy usually tried to escape from Nick’s back-garden. And then about some new singer he was obsessed with. And then what music he had been obsessed with when he had been at UNI. And then about how he actually didn’t enjoy watching films.

Matt listened to all of it; he just couldn’t filter Nick out this time. He sighed and turned to the two men chatting on the couch.

 

“I’m sorry, but could you stop talking or go into the other room?” He said and Nick looked at him with almost comical surprise.

 

“What?” That was all that Nick managed to get out.

 

“What do you mean?” Ian continued, “Isn’t he like, your muse or something?”

 

“Um, yes, or he used to be,” Matt licked his lips and thought of a way to explain the whole ordeal.

 

“What has changed?” Nick asked and the sad look in his eyes made Matt’s stomach hurt.

 

“I can’t concentrate, because I’ve become interested in what you are talking about,” Matt admitted and looked down. Why did Nick make him feel so awkward and embarrassed about everything?

 

“So you don’t need me anymore?” Nick’s puppy-eyes were heart-breaking.

 

“Not really, no… but we could just, you know, hang out,” Matt bit his bottom lip and waited anxiously to see if Nick actually wanted to hang out with him. What if he didn’t?

But of course Nick just grinned widely and accepted the suggestion, because he might be a child of the sun.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

Matt’s book was finished and the first publication would soon go out, so he had all the time in the world to spend however he’d like. He decided to spend it with Nick. He discovered that Nick was more than met the eye (and ears); he was funny and kind and passionate and smart and sassy and just a tiny bit annoying. And he made Matt feel things he hadn’t felt for years; stupid butterflies and waves of warmth. Matt had never really liked the idea of having a boy-or girlfriend before, he had always liked to have his own space, but now it felt as if he had too much space. He was starting to feel anguish only hours after he had parted with Nick and whenever he picked up his phone to text Nick and ask if he wanted to meet up somewhere, he felt nervous about the possibility that Nick would find him obtrusive. Nick never did, he just happily told Matt when and where they would meet.

They would go for long walks in the park with Puppy and have deep discussions, or Matt would invite Nick over for lunch and he would listen to Nick complaining about his new job, or they would have dinner in some half-assed restaurant and flirt and tease each other aimlessly for hours until the restaurant closed. And sometimes, when Matt got home and suddenly realised that he had something else to add to an argument or theory he and Nick had discussed over the day, he would call Nick and they would accidentally talk for hours. Nick would bring Matt over to barbecues with his endless collection of friends; they even brought Ian along once, who took a special interest in Nick’s friend Aimee from America.

Matt and Nick’s lives fit so naturally together, that  _they_  happened naturally;

When they had dinner, they would play footsie under the table. When they walked through the park, their hands would bump together and eventually Nick’s hand would slide into Matt’s and they would interlace their fingers. Nick would, after a lot of convincing from Matt, agree to watch old Bond films and they would both fall asleep on the couch. In the morning, Matt would look at the time and realise that he’s late for a meeting about his book and he would borrow a shirt from Nick to look presentable. And when they were having a cup of tea late at night, they would cuddle together under a blanket. They would steal small kisses and affectionate touches whenever they had a chance. They would fall asleep breathing in each other’s exhales.

 

**~~~ ~~~ ~~~**

 

“I want to show you something,” Matt said when Nick sat down at the breakfast table one morning.

 

“What?” Nick’s hair was messy and his eyes tired, but he smiled at Matt as always.

Matt handed him a book. It was the first copy of Matt’s book.

 

"Look at the writer’s thanks," Matt said after Nick had inspected the book cover for several minutes. Nick eagerly flipped through the pages until he found it;

_Thanks to Nick, who never stopped talking._

 

“You credited me!” Nick burst out, utterly delighted.

 

“Of course; it wouldn’t have gotten written without you,” Matt smiled warmly when he saw how excited Nick was by the simple gesture.

 

“Wait until all my friends see this!” Nick chuckled, then something seemed to hit him. “What are you going to say if someone asks about it? Like, in an interview or so?”

 

“I’m going to tell them that it was just some annoying barista in a café,” Matt took a sip of his orange juice to hide the smile on his lips. It was ridiculous, how Nick could make him smile all the time.

 

“Shut up Fincham,” Nick kicked Matt’s leg under the table, “Wait, you thought I was annoying?”

 

“Just a bit, but now I find you endearing,” Matt leaned forward and planted a kiss on Nick’s cheek.

 

“I’ve had a crush on you from the moment you walked into that café,” Nick crossed his arms over his chest; like he was offended by Matt’s little confession. Maybe he really was?

 

“Really?” Matt was actually a bit surprised by that, but Nick’s behaviour did make more sense with the knowledge.

 

“Yes, didn’t you notice that I made hearts in your latte foam?” Nick looked at him expectantly.

 

“No,” Matt winced, because admitting this didn’t bode well.

 

“Oh God…” Nick sighed deeply and face palmed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Matt patted Nick’s shoulder.

 

“I hate you,” Nick said and he sounded like a defiant 5-year old.

 

“I love you,” The words left Matt’s mouth without his allowance. Nick looked about as surprised as Matt felt.

They were silent for a long time, then Nick smiled and took Matt’s hand in his. He played with Matt’s fingers.

 

“I don’t love you yet… but I’m getting there soon,” He said truthfully.

It was strange, but Matt was more touched by Nick’s honesty than he would’ve been by an “I love you too”. It was  _worth_  more. So he smiled back and caught one of Nick’s hands with his own and trapped it in a firm grip. He wasn’t letting this one go.

**Fin.**


End file.
